


A Home In Me

by AngelMoonGirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: And a good dose of Daddy Charming too, Family Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Mother-Daughter Relationship, You definitely wanted cavities right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:38:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelMoonGirl/pseuds/AngelMoonGirl
Summary: Mary Margaret wants to make sure that Emma knows, she is just as much her baby as this new one currently growing beneath her skin. Companion piece to 3x12, or more aptly, a conversation we should have seen between The Charmings.





	A Home In Me

_"Who the hell would have done this?"_

The question hangs in the air, a sour and lingering aftertaste to their joyous reunion, but Emma can tell her companions are still as optimistic as ever. They shake their heads sadly and shrug this strange portent away; it goes unspoken but Emma knows, they are all in agreement: whatever happens, they'll face it down. Together.

The word fills her with indescribable warmth because as much as she wants a normal life with Henry, she wants this, too. She wants David and Mary Margaret, the indomitable force of True Love who just so happen to be her same-age parents. Their relationship is unconventional for sure, but it was this that Emma remembered aching for most of all, when Regina revealed the cost of escaping the second curse. She can still feel David's arms gripping her tightly to his strong chest, and the smell of safety his presence exuded. Still recall the pain when Mary Margaret's gloves slipped from her face, leaving nothing but the ghost of her kiss for Emma to cling to.

She never thought she was going to see them again, and yet here they are, standing at the foot of the stairs like none of the last year ever transpired.

Except Mary Margaret's stomach looks fit to burst, and suddenly Emma's reeling... again.

She went twenty eight years believing herself an orphan, tossed to the side of the road like garbage because no one wanted her sorry life. Twenty eight years, and now suddenly she's found her beautiful son, two loving parents, and that-  _that's her little brother or sister in there._

Emma exhales shakily. She needs to sit, or better yet down an entire bottle of scotch. And just like that, Mary Margaret's hand is leading hers to the couch while David offers to put on a pot of tea, and Emma registers with dim amazement that yes, they still read her like the back of a damn book, able to ascertain with just a glance exactly what she needs.

"Any chance I can get mine spiked?"

David laughs. "Same old Emma."

Mary Margaret has slid them onto the familiar cushions as David goes about his ministrations in the kitchen, and Emma senses that her mother wants to take this opportunity to talk about the invisible elephant - or rather, baby - in the room. She decides to broach the subject first, and save Mary Margaret any anxiety.

"So... I guess I'm going to be a big sister, huh?"

She can't seem to stop staring. It is odd to see her former roommate full with child, when Mary Margaret was always such a tiny thing.

If Mary Margaret finds Emma's intense curiosity with her abdomen awkward, she doesn't let on. Instead, her visage becomes engulfed with a large, nervous grin.

"Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you. Imagine waking up and finding your body has sprouted its own continent."

They laugh, and Emma revels in how easy all of this is. She is still trying to decipher her exact emotions on the subject, but she is perhaps not as shocked as she should be. Maybe a part of her was expecting that David and Mary Margaret would procreate in the future. After all, she can't have been the only child they wanted pre-curse, and goodness knows she has walked in on them going at it like rabbits enough times to scar for an eternity's worth...

As if jumping on the same train of thought, Mary Margaret offers softly, "Emma, I want you to know, we're not trying to replace you."

"Mary Margaret-" Emma waves, but the aforementioned schoolteacher continues insistently,

"I know what I might have sounded like in the cave. Like- like I wasn't content with what we have with you or something-"

"Mary Margaret-"

"But Emma, listen to me. No matter what you think, you are  _always_  enough for us. Baby or no, that won't change, and I just-"

" _Mom_." Emma knows that is what will freeze Mary Margaret in her tracks, and she's right. Her mother gapes, but there is a sparkle burgeoning in her eyes. She looks awestruck; it is only the second time Emma has used her rightful title - a negligence Emma intends to rectify, in time. "It's okay.  _I know_."

Mary Margaret mouths for a moment, then settles for an emotional nod. "You would have had lots of siblings, you know. Close in age, we wanted that for you," she says thickly.

Emma wants to respond with another "I know", but she can't trust her voice. The confirmation of what she always suspected has lured a lump into her throat.

Mary Margaret swallows and her line of sight drifts until it is centered on the kitchen, where David is trying to be inconspicuous while failing rather miserably. She speaks in a whisper now, and Emma can sense the agony of what she is about to reveal next. "Losing you, being cheated out of your childhood... that's something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I think it's a hurt  _none_  of us will ever truly be able to escape, and so I - I won't begrudge you in the slightest if you felt like you needed time before you could accept having a sibling, Emma. I would understand."

Emma is mildly horrified. She would no sooner abandon that child than she would Henry; family has become an inextricable part of her life now, and she wants very much to share in the joy of gaining a new member. "I could  _never_  do that. Please don't worry about me, Mary Margaret - I sure as hell don't feel replaced. How could I, when you and David dote over me every possible second you get?"

Mary Margaret's lips curl upward in sheepish concession. She's still watching David, and her eyes begin to blink rapidly as Emma bares her soul just that little bit further.

"I won't deny that deep down, some part of me does feel sad that I never had you two as parents growing up, and this kid will. But... I'm not angry. How could I be?" Emma shrugs, hedging into what was always shadowy territory. "I can't be envious of what I never had. 'Home' wasn't a word in my dictionary... at least, not until Storybrooke. When you opened that door, and you welcomed me into this cramped, creaky, cozy old apartment - that was my first 'home'. And now I've come to realize, it's not  _just_  here. It's everywhere; it's Henry and it's you and it's David - our family is 'home'. And now home's about to get a little bit bigger, and I'm so happy. Whether there's four or there's five or there's forty five, I'm happy because I have all of you now, when before there was... no one."

Emma's breath absconds in a whoosh, her voice catching on the final sentiment. Well. That was perhaps more than she had been intending to share, but she's glad all the same that it's now off her chest and out in the ether. Mary Margaret appears similarly affected; she stares down at her stomach, fingers stroking absently, gaze full of love. Then she peeks at Emma, and it's this that truly sets the blonde off, because the same love is now being directed her way, only it feels intensified because no one else looks at her like that. Like she's the most precious person on this earth.

Emma gulps hard. She almost can't bear it, this sensation of drowning in emotion, so foreign after a year away. So instead of her mother, she regards the table. At least the wood does not make her want to crumple into itty bitty pieces.

They are silent for a moment, neither breaking this fragile spell that has descended. Until -

"It's not exactly true, you know - you never having had a home before Storybrooke? You did, once," Mary Margaret says earnestly.

"What?" Emma is bemused, and even more so when Mary Margaret grabs her hand.

"You had a home... with me." Her mother guides her hand gently, slowly, before letting it rest against her bump. The skin is soft and plump underneath the fabric. "Or more aptly,  _in_  me. Nine beautiful months worth of shelter, food, and more love than you ever could have imagined."

Emma blushes bright pink and Mary Margaret chuckles at the no doubt supremely embarrassed expression Emma knows has claimed her face. Oh yes. Right. She forgets that important detail, or rather works tirelessly to keep it tucked in the very very far recesses of her mind, whenever in Mary Margaret's company. The fact that she befriended her mother as a twenty eight year old roommate first has an awful lot to do with it, and it is still at times difficult to come to grips with Mary Margaret's maternity over her without throwing in the awkward reminder that she used to play in this woman's amniotic fluid.

"I guess it gained another occupant in my absence," Emma attempts to snark, but the joke would have been funnier if she'd managed to keep the sappy sounding sniffle out of her voice. Dammit, how was it Mary Margaret always did this to her; how did she always bring her down with just one fell blow?

The aforementioned woman with sheared raven locks presses Emma's hand tightly against her, weaving their fingers into one. "I know this makes you uncomfortable, but there are things I want - I  _need_  - to say to you before you walk out tonight.

"Emma. My darling Emma. We might be having another baby, but don't ever forget...  _you're_  my baby too, and no matter how many more children your father and I have, you will  _always_  be my miracle firstborn who overcame all the odds and grew into this perfect woman sitting next to me now. I'm so proud of you, Emma. I love you more than my life, and I can't ever tell you that enough."

There's a brick in her throat and a tree branch in her eye, Emma's pretty sure. She chokes on a sob as Mary Margaret gathers up her hand and kisses the appendage. Her mother's tears moisten the skin and Emma can feel a few of her own slip free as she croaks,

"I love you too... Mom."

The fall comes almost naturally, even if there's - using Mary Margaret's appropriate description - a continent in the way. But a hug from Mary Margaret is still just as comforting and safe and enveloping as ever, so it isn't long until Emma loses herself in her mother. That is, until a loud clink stirs her to awareness once more. She opens her eyes to find hot tea on the table and David's nose inches from her own, his handsomely burly face just as affectionate as Mary Margaret's. He reaches out and chucks her beneath the chin, donning an air of mischievousness that Emma appreciates in the charged aftermath of hers and Mary Margaret's exchange.

"That goes for me as well, Emma Swan. Being 'Daddy's Princess' is one of those lifelong duties, or haven't you heard?"

Emma scoffs playfully at him from Mary Margaret's embrace, and she's about to issue a witty remark when there's an unexpected jolt midway down her front. For an instant, she is confused, but then Mary Margaret goes "Ooh!" and Emma remembers,

"Baby?"

She pulls away and observes the bump excitedly.

"Baby!" Mary Margaret confirms gleefully, and she's tugged Emma's hand back against her, waiting. "Oh! There! Did you feel, it moved again!"

Emma's eyes go wide with awe, nodding. She glances at David, noticing that his countenance is a near mirror of hers. He catches her looking and they share a quiet smile, some form of camaraderie passing between them. In this moment, they are more than father and daughter. They are fellow knights, cut from the same cloth, paying deference to the princess. Warriors, about to embark on a singular mission, ready if need be to protect all they hold most dear from enemies still unknown.

_No one's getting to Mary Margaret or this baby if I have anything to say about it..._

Mary Margaret grunts again. "Someone's sure feisty tonight."

David paws the floor, feigning fascination with the woodwork. "Must be a family trait. I seem to remember someone else who kept us up at all hours of the night with her acrobatic feats, too."

He peeks at Emma and there again hides that devilish twinkle in his bright blue depths. She crinkles her nose and he smirks. "Three in the morning seemed to be your favorite hour to practice kicking. Your mother threw fits."

"Well that was also due in part to the hiccuping... remember? She had it bad that last trimester; we even took to calling you our little drunken sailor!" Mary Margaret reminisces fondly, and Emma has to resist a moan.

"Oh god, you guys, really? You're really going to do this? I swear, if you don't stop trying to embarrass me, I'm walking out that door."

"But Emma, honey... That's what parents are for," Mary Margaret titters. "Now drink your spiked tea and be quiet, I'm not done thinking about my babies and there's so much more to your story than Henry's book could ever cover, my not-so-little drunken sailor."

Emma tries to roll her eyes, but it is to no avail. She can't keep the interest off her face, nor the grin that threatens to split the sides of her mouth.

Yes, she definitely missed this.

She knows Hook is waiting for her, knows he must be growing impatient as Henry naps in the back of her small yellow bug, but she can't leave. Not yet. So she promises to stay, but only for one story. And as David's weight settles beside her and his thumbs brush against hers in the passing over of hot tea, Emma listens closely to the fantastical details of a life she cannot remember, but one she knows must have been wondrous, and full of love. It was, after all, spent with these two individuals, and if her first true home with them was anything like this, well... it's a good indication she must have been deliriously happy then, too.

Emma lets her eyes slip shut for just a moment, letting their voices wash over her, imbuing her with peace, with hope.

There may be trials ahead, and she will probably be called upon to act as Savior once more. But despite the dark and uncertain future, she knows there is light abound.

She has her son.

She has her... whatever Hook is.

She has her parents.

And now, now she has a new sibling on the way, too.

Emma smiles.

_It's good to be home._

* * *

**_FIN_ **


End file.
